32 posts tagged “qotd”

What fragrance/cologne do you put on when it's your night out? 
Submitted by noiq.

I don't usually switch up like that, but currently I'm wearing Cashmere Mist by Donna Karen.

Audio: What's your favorite carol or holiday song?

CreoleinDC asked this over on her site too. I have a few favorites: 2 versions of This Christmas, Donny Hathaway's and the Whispers, Another Lonely Christmas - Prince, Santa Baby - Eartha Kitt, Let It Snow - Boyz II Men. There are a couple others ones that my parents used to play all the time. Man, I can "hear" them in the back of my mind, but I can't place them. The only part of one I can remember is "Merry Christmas, from the Temptations" Which song is that?

What is your favorite dish on the Thanksgiving table?
Submitted by Kadeeae.  

Dressing! My mama's dressing to be specific. With gravy and a little slice of cranberry sauce. 

Would you go on vacation by yourself, and if so where would you go?
Submitted by Sean & Stefan.

I wouldn't have a problem vacationing by myself...I'm a loner for the most part anyway. I'm thinking any island where I can just chill would be a great choice. The only island locale I've been to thus far is Negril, Jamaica so I'd have more than a few to choose from.

Honestly, I probably could do Vegas too. I'm not a gambler, so I'd be more than willing to just go up and down the strip seeing the shows and concerts.

What do you absolutely refuse to eat?

brussel sprouts and okra...blech!

Who are the last five people you called on your cell phone?

1. Emergency Maintenance at my apartment. The cold water hose was leaking water all up under the sink!

2. My girl E.

3. My boy E.

4. my darling sister

5. Work...I needed to take a sick day (cough)

What was your worst cooking experience?

I haven't had any major disasters in the kitchen, thank God, but I am sort of a klutz when operating cooking utensils. I still have scars on my hands from broken glasses; I've gotten a little carried away with a mandoline and sliced up my finger and most recently tried to take off the tip of my thumb cutting up an onion.   Clearly I need a little more practice.

Tell us about an event that changed your life forever.
Submitted by Miss Scotch.

February 2005

I wrote about this very briefly in an old blog…

It started out as a fairly normal Thursday in February. I got up, went to work and came home to relax a while before heading to choir rehearsal. I had a little more time this Thursday because rehearsal got pushed back an hour, so instead of leaving the house at 6:30 I lounged around, had a cup of tea, started reading a book…you know, lounging.  About 15 minutes before I was ready to leave, the doorbell rings and then my dad (I was living with the parents at the time) comes and tells me that someone’s here for me.  This is unusual because I don’t get random visitors. So I come out to see who it is and there are two police officers – one with an automatic weapon strapped across his chest – waiting for me.

I was arrested.

Upon exiting my house, I notice that there are officers in the backyard, out in the street, and ON THE NEXT BLOCK. What the hell? This day took a turn REAL.QUICK.

Turns out, there were so many cars because 1) the nature of the crime I was accused of and 2) Southfield police were the arresting officers and I live in Detroit, so they required escorts.

I don’t find out what I’m accused of until the next morning, so you guessed it; I had to spend the night in jail. Thankfully (?), I was the only female “prisoner” so I had a cell to myself. But it was little consolation after having to have my shoestrings, the drawstrings in my jogging suit and my bra (under wire) removed to make sure I wouldn’t harm myself while in custody. I won’t describe the night as I try not to relive it, but suffice it to say that it more than solidified my belief that I need never end up (again) in anybody’s jail.

Anyway, I found out the next morning that I was being accused of attempted murder. There was a convention in Southfield where someone was attacked by a male and female and left for dead. What happened next was a series of unfortunate events that led to my arrest: A slip of paper was found at the scene of the crime on which a phone number was written. Either the police or the phone carrier transposed two of the numbers which then became my cell phone number. Once my info was obtained, a photo line up was given to the victim (thankfully he survived the attack) who picked my photo. At the time, my license was about 6 or 7 years old, so I was a few pounds lighter and still rocking a perm. So, I’m being questioned about my life – age, relatives, job, etc. Have you ever been to Xxxxx hotel (where the convention took place), I had to explain the difference between braids (removable) and locs (not so much), basically all the questioning you see on any given cop show (all while handcuffed to the desk). Not quite a good cop, bad cop scenario, but pretty close.

Ultimately I was the one who found the mistake. While being questioned, they kept putting their documents in my face. “This is your phone number isn’t it? Well if you weren’t there, why would it have been in the room?” Multiple pages contained all my vitals – name, rank and serial number. BUT, one page had the number with the transposed digits. After pointing out the error, the one detective left to verify the info while the other remained and still tried to get me to confess to something. Upon returning, I was informed that I would be driven home. The final blow was when on the way to the car, I was not apologized to, but told, “Either we made a mistake or you’re a damn good liar.”

Life changing indeed.

I can’t say that I now live in fear or bitterness, but I definitely lost something in that experience. I used to pray to just get over it, but a friend of mine told me that it wasn’t going to happen. After traumatic experiences you must grieve. You can’t let it pull you under, but you must know that you are no longer the same person. So, if I need to cry about it, then I don’t beat myself up over the fact that it still evokes such a strong reaction. I just let the tears come and realize that it doesn’t make me a weak person. In fact, I’m just the opposite and I’m still here.

In your ultimate dream house, what does your favorite room look like?

My favorite room would be the kitchen. That's where everyone gathers and the best conversations take place. Oh, and of course the food!

I can't picture every detail, but what I do see is a huge island that incorporates the five burner cooktop and a small sink with room for barstools. The perimeter of the kitchen includes the sub-zero refrigerator, the double oven and the farmhouse (?) sink. I'm thinking my countertops would be either concrete or granite. A dishwasher would be nice and it would be great to have a fairly large banquet so my company can be comfortably seated while I cook. I haven't worked out the cabinets or the flooring, but sounds good so far, right?

Who was your best (or worst) elementary school teacher?
Submitted by Minnow. 

You know what? I can really only remember two of my elementary school teachers and it's for some mean spirited reasons (when they say kids can be mean, they ain't said nothing but the truth!) One was my first grade teacher whose name was Ms. Stanke (pronounced just like you think it is). I mean, really! How could a bunch of six year olds not develop a year's worth of jokes from this?! Ahh, good times...

Ms. Boadway was my eighth grade teacher. Unfortunately for her, she provided us with a great number of things to talk about. But, the main reason I remember her is because we actually made her cry. For reasons I still don't understand, she came to a birthday party given by one of my classmates and proceeded to sit on the floor smack in the middle of where all us kids were talking, dancing, etc. Of course, we began to wonder what exactly she was doing there as all of the other adults had agreed to give us some space and were upstairs. So doing what we do best, we started talking about her. She overheard some conversation and her feelings got hurt. Now I don't know about you, but as a grown person, do you really care what some 12 and 13 year old kids say about you? Me neither. But not only did she care, she called some us into the principal's office the next school day to discuss it! This got us riled up even more until she finally just started yelling at us. "It's Over! O-V-E-R Done!!" And as you may have surmised from the fact that I still remember this phrase, we used it for the remainder of the school year.

So, on that note, this post is OVER! O-V-E-R Done!!